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The World Tree hadn’t taken root yet, or else Negris would have truly been frightened. However, Ange was evidently working hard to cultivate it. He first saturated the ground with water, planted the seed, and then pointed at it with his finger.

No movement or signs of germinating came from the seed for quite some time.

Well, it wasn’t so easy to grow a World Tree. However, Ange was not discouraged. If growing a simple mushroom required a control group, then the World Tree certainly required more intricate care and consideration

Bearing this in mind, Ange set up several hundred growth combinations, with different types of soil including pure volcanic ash, bone meal mixed in, burnt plant ash mixed in, and rural household compost mixed in. The pH of the soil, its ability to let water pass through, and a dozen other combinations were set up.

Afterward, along both banks of the great canyon, he repeated and set these combinations according to different temperatures. Considering the temperature, both counts of the canyon were perfect, going from a few degrees at the top to several hundred degrees near the Lava River. Once he’d found the right height, he’d have corresponding temperatures.

Taking into account the uniqueness of the World Tree, Ange also buried a few seeds near the several hundred-degree heat of the Lava River. However, they quickly got cooked, illustrating that the seeds could not germinate under such extreme temperatures.

“You’re trying to make it germinate at several hundred degrees!? You should just be glad they’re not getting cooked! Even boiling water at a hundred degrees could cook them, and you’re trying several hundred degrees!!” Negris roared, angry at Ange’s unreliable method.

“Can they really get cooked?” Ange tilted his head, fetched a stone bowl, and filled it with water using the Rain Technique.

After giving it some thought, he cast a Purification spell, then put two seeds into the bowl. Holding the bowl in his hands, he then cast the Burn Wasteland Spell; a flame burst out from his palm, scorching the bottom of the bowl. It wasn’t long before the water in the bowl began to boil.

After burning for a little while, Ange took out the seeds, crushed them, and pointed at the still-green interior, saying, “It’s not cooked.”

Negris’s face swelled up a bit, and he ran away covering his face.

Could the World Tree’s seeds really resist getting cooked this well? Boiling water couldn’t cook them? Had anyone ever heard of seeds that could withstand boiling?

Even the God of Knowledge hadn’t heard of this, signifying that there was no such thing. This meant that perhaps only the seeds of the World Tree could withstand boiling. However, because no one dared to try and boil them, no one knew this attribute they possessed.

Being able to withstand boiling meant they could withstand temperatures higher than a hundred degrees. Ange planted some in areas with elevated temperatures, watching them for a while and finding they weren’t getting cooked, he finally buried them with soil.

All possible planting locations were provided with seeds, including the surface areas where the Resting Wind touched. Although Resting Wind could obliterate all signs of life, who knew if the World Tree could withstand it?

He then selected ten fuller seeds and soaked them in an essence mixture, placed ten in the farm at Resting Camp, crushed the hulls of ten more, froze ten overnight, boiled some for a few minutes, etc. Having no idea which method was effective, he used everything at his disposal.

However, the soil and air environment of the Great Rift is acidic. Hence, anticipating the worst, Ange saved half of the seeds for future planting in Witch City.

Negris was feeling the goosebumps watching all this. The World Tree is sacred to the Elf Clan, their god, one of a kind in all the endless abyss. The elves cherished it so much that any form of desecration or offense could potentially incite the Elves’ wrath.

Thousands of seeds from one fruit, yet the Elf Clan took only one as a reward. If they were not desperate, they would not have dispatched the diseased branches worldwide. Yet, if Ange really did find a method to cultivate the

World Tree and manage to grow them like vegetables, what recourse would the Elves have? Would they lose their minds over it?

This was plausible. Plants have their own nature. Once they’ve found a suitable environment, they can germinate in large numbers. And rather conveniently, Ange had divine technique to accelerate seed germination in his arsenal.

It might need extra elements to grow into a World Tree, but germination probably wouldn’t, right? Elves would surely go crazy just by seeing hundreds of World Tree saplings.

My God, the very thought is thrilling! Let’s proceed with this plan.

However, it couldn’t be done right away. Only dozens of seeds had been buried when a black warrior came calling from the cave, shouting: “Boss… my former boss is… looking for you.”

Negris was the first to confront him, asking furiously: “Former boss? Did you get in touch with your old accomplices?”

This was a serious matter. If the black warrior had contacted his former comrades without consent, Negris would advise Ange to kill him immediately.

The black warrior quickly shook his head: “No, no, no! The teleportation array was not shut off and suddenly there was a communication request. The only one who knows about this teleportation array is my former boss, and it did turn out to be him. I told him about the job change and that’s it. I didn’t say anything else. However, he insisted on speaking to the boss.”

Negris scrutinized him. Being enforced under a soul contract, the black warrior wouldn’t dare to lie. If this was all, then it could be forgiven. At this point, Negris asked out of curiosity: “Who was your former boss? Why didn’t he require you to pledge your soul? Wasn’t he afraid you would betray him?”

“Hey, that’s impossible. However, due to some special reasons, he negated our pledges and gave us freedom. Our former boss was the Dark Knight Emperor, Piero.” The black warrior explained.

Negris jumped in shock. “What? Piero? Is he still alive?”

As the legendary Dark Knight Emperor, the inventor of the reincarnation altar, and the first to create artificial Undead, Negris, of course, knew him quite well.

This guy frequently had chances to enter the Bronze Book Tower, where he asked Negris many ‘knowledgeable’ questions. It’s quite possible he had manufactured the reincarnation altar with Negris’s aid. And this Dark Knight Emperor, he’s actually still alive?

“Is it him who wants to talk to us?” Negris asked.

“Yes, he now goes by the name Anthony, and he is the Cardinal Archbishop of the Human Parish of the Church of Light in the Material Plane. That Angel and all of us were dispatched by him…” The black warrior had not finished his sentence when he saw Negris fall face-first to the ground in shock: “Church of Light? Cardinal Archbishop? The Angels listen to him?”

The twists and turns of the matter shattered Negris’s worldview. The mighty Black Warrior Emperor was now the Cardinal Archbishop of the Church of Light?

Negris sat by the Transport Array, unable to digest the news that had just been presented to him. There were many questions that were left unanswered.

Ange, however, was not bothered by such concerns. He put on his straw hat at once and asked, “Who are you?”

A steady voice came from within the Transport Array, “I am Cardinal Archbishop Anthony of the Human Parish of the Church of Light. Hello, may I ask who you are?”

“Ange.” Ange replied.

Such a simple name displeased Anthony. What did it mean? Was he being perfunctory?

“May I ask what your status is?” Anthony asked yet again.

Ange cocked his head, puzzled by the question. What did ‘status’ mean? After giving it some thought, he answered, “Farming skeleton.”

An understanding dawned on Anthony. It was clear that Ange was brushing him off, but that didn’t matter. He’d lived many years and wasn’t going to be easily provoked by such matters.

“Are you, by any chance, the warrior skeleton who wields the Scythe of Death and has taken Polk’s soul, Mr. Ange?” Anthony asked.

Negris leaned over to the Dark Knight and whispered, “Do they call you Polk?” The Dark Knight nodded.

“How does he know that your soul was taken by the Scythe of Death?” Negris questioned.

“One of my comrades survived. He managed to escape.” Polk replied softly.

Another Dark Knight had survived? He had withstood the Holy Light Flash from an Angel Skeleton and still lived?

However, upon further thought, it made sense. The ‘Holy’ light from the Angel Skeleton did not inflict additional damage on the undead. As long as one was not hit directly, they wouldn’t be burnt. Perhaps the earth had absorbed most of the damage, which allowed the Dark Knight to escape death.

It took Ange quite some time to understand that he was the person Anthony was referring to. He owned the Scythe of Death, and a warrior skeleton?

“Yes.” Ange replied.

Still being nonchalant? Anger simmered within Anthony, “Mr. Ange, open communication is the foundation to problem-solving. You have captured my people and stolen my property, yet you have such an attitude. That is not the right approach to solving problems.”

Ange was confused. What was Anthony talking about? ‘Open communication foundation attitude solution’? This seemed very complicated.

Since he couldn’t understand, Ange tilted his head and asked, “What do you want?”

Now it was Anthony’s turn to be surprised. “What do you mean, ‘what do I want’? You’ve captured my people, stolen my property, and you’re asking what I want? I want my people and the Holy Remains.”

“Oh, what do we exchange them for?” This time, Ange understood. Anthony wanted something from him. That made things easier; it was a simple matter of equivalent exchange.

Anthon took a deep breath. It seemed to him that the impudent captor was now demanding a ransom for the objects he’d stolen. Well, two could play that game.

“What do you want?” Suppressing his anger, Anthony asked.

The Holy Remains were indeed valuable. With them, an Angel could be revived by using Holy Light. To be cautious, he had sent two Dark Knights along with it. Even if something happened to the Angel, they ought to be able to recover the Holy Remains. Yet, it seemed the worst situation had indeed happened.

The other Dark Knight had escaped and reported everything to him. This only added to the absurdity Anthony felt; the Holy Spirit Angel hadn’t been killed by an enemy. Instead, it had stood firm in the face of a Resting Wind, and died from it.

Would anyone believe this? Could the Holy Spirits be so single-minded and foolish? In past battles with the Holy Spirits, he hadn’t found them to be this stupid.

Perhaps the Holy Spirits they’d previously fought were of a higher level. The smaller Holy Spirits were of higher levels, but the large, dumb ones were of a lower level, had limited combat power, worse intelligence, and stubbornness to match. It was infuriating.

But even then, a Holy Spirit was still a Holy Spirit. Losing one for no reason was a hard thing to explain, even for a Cardinal Archbishop like him.

Even if he were able to gloss over it, it would reveal the situation at the Resting Abyss. He’d spent many years working hard to drive the attention of the Church of Light away from this place.

The urgent task now was to retrieve the Holy Remains and gloss over this affair. Once he could spare his attention, he would deal with Ange.

This question stumped Ange. What did he want?

“I want seeds…” Before he could finish, Negris lunged forward and covered his mouth.

Negris almost burst into laughter. As he had expected, anyone who didn’t know Ange well would end up frustrated after talking to him. If he had completed the sentence ‘I want seeds’, Anthony would surely lose his temper.

Even though Negris would have loved to witness such a spectacle, he refrained from spurring a breakdown in negotiations.

After covering Angel s mouth, Negris took over, “Piero, it’s been a long time.. Do you remember me?”